


Woes of Riddle

by the_tilly



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Childhood, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 05:53:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8785645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_tilly/pseuds/the_tilly
Summary: In another universe, Merope Gaunt stumbled across a kind Muggle named Mildred "Milly" Millar on the day of her son's birth. This changed the childhood of Tom Riddle Jr. but not for the better. In many ways, the orphanage may have been kinder to the young genius, than his neurotic mother. This has vignettes of Tom's life, and is a companion piece to 'Dance with the Devil' series written off of notes I had for the story.





	

Like most nights when the year was ending, it was cold in London. The snow had just fallen, dusting the dirty streets with flakes of white and cold. In the distance, there were sounds of backfiring cars as the populace moved around, whizzing from one jazz party to another in the late evening. A group of ladies in flapper gowns, furred coats, and tight curls walked down the street together, laughing. As they rounded a corner, a woman who was more rags than flesh bumped into them.

“Watch where you’re going love!” shouted the blonde woman, gently pushing the ragged woman.

“Whatcha got there Milly?” asked the brunette, side stepping the other to have a look. “Someone looks ossified to me.”

“I- I’m sorry,” mumbled the ragged woman, clutching at her round stomach. Her sharp cheek bones, and bone thin hands standing out against the swelling. 

“Whoa love, you down up or something?” asked Milly, inspecting the woman in front of her. The woman in front of her whimpered. “Girls, I think she’s about to pop!”

“Well I ain’t stopping to play nurse to a Quiff,” hissed one girl in the back, flipping her purse over her shoulder. She grabbed the brunette’s shoulder.

“Betty!” snapped Milly looking back at her two companions. “You get going with that! Ain’t right insulting a lady. You go on to the party. I not ‘bout to let her have a baby in the streets!”

“Don’t take any wooden nickels,” Betty replied, fixing her coat for a second. She looked at the woman between the two, linking arms with the other finely dressed woman. “You coming to the party or you staying behind with the dumb Dora?”

“I’m coming.”

“See? Someone’s got sense in their heads,” Betty said with a sneer. “Let’s go.”

Milly watched as her two friends continued down the street for a few seconds, hissing curse words at their backs. She turned back to the woman in rags who looked like she was in too much pain to be insulted. Milly shoved off her coat and wrapped it around the woman who barely looked like she noticed.

“Let’s get you to a hospital,” she said, gently tugging the woman from the brick wall.

“D-don’t h-h-have money,” whimpered the woman who now clutched at the coat for warmth.

“You let me worry about that,” Milly said, looking around for a cabby. Luckily there was one at the end of the street, nearly turning off. Milly thrust her hand in the air and shouted for him to turn back. It only took a few seconds for the man to reverse his car and line up to the two women. He eyed the ragged woman.

“She don’t look so good,” he said, watching the ragged woman curl into herself.

“Well then you better drive fast,” Milly answered with her body turned towards the woman in the seat. It didn’t take long for her whimpers to turn into barely contained screams.

By the time they got to the hospital, the ragged woman was crying out in pain. Milly barely got her into the wheelchair to be seen when a flush of pregnancy fluid came out. The nurses rushed the woman back behind the doors to help deliver her baby and try to save the woman’s life.

Milly went to the wash room to clean her hands and eyed herself in the mirror. Her perfect makeup was still in place and she looked like she was on her way to a party still. She huffed at the stray curl that fell across her forehead, lightly laughing to herself. This wasn’t the way she wanted to spend her evening. She came out of the room and had a nurse in a tight bun walk up to her.

“Are you feeling alright?” she asked in a practiced voice.

“I’m fine,” Milly answered, crossing her arms for warmth since her coat was brought in with the ragged woman. “How’s she doing?”

“Not looking good,” the nurse said with a frown. “Baby is alright, he’s a fighter that’s for sure. Once he was out, he let out a healthy cry.”

Milly hummed, rubbing her arms. The nurse eyed her for a few moments.

“You want to see him?” she asked with a slight smile. Milly looked up at her and nodded.

They both went to the children’s ward where there were a few babies already. Being placed down in a crib was a crying boy. He already had some dark hair curling around his head and his fists were clenched in displeasure. Unlike the other babies, he was barely the size of the nurse’s hand, and looked a bit skinny for a babe. The nurse laying him down wrapped another blanket around him and put a pacifier in his mouth, which quieted him.

“Is that him?” Milly asked, watched as they baby’s tiny eyes followed the nurse who placed him down. His little brows already frowning and his arms wiggling in the blanket. She smiled at him feeling a swelling of affection in her chest.

“Yes,” the nurse answered. “He’s quite energetic for just being born.”

Just then, the pacifier popped out of the baby’s mouth. He let out a cry, frowning up at the bright light overhead of his crib. Before the nurse could get back to him, there was a sizzling sound then a loud _POP_. The light over him went out, dimming the room.

“Oh!” gasped the nurse.

“Is he alright?” Milly asked, standing closer to inspect the baby but there was no need. He finally quieted down and if she didn’t know any better, seemed pleased the light was finally gone.

“Well, that doesn’t normally happen,” the nurse said, watching as the other staff member placed the pacifier back in the baby’s mouth. He seemed to accept it now, his wiggling stopped. “I’ll go check on the mother. You’re welcome to stay if you like.”

“Thank you,” Milly replied, watching the nurse turn to leave. “Oh, just a second.”

“Yes?”

“What’s the baby’s name?” Milly asked, wondering.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

It took until the next morning before the nurse finally came out with good news. The woman was still alive, and finally able to speak again. Milly was curled up on one of the chairs in the waiting room when she was notified. Stretching her back to get rid of the cramp and aches from sleeping in an awkward position, Milly felt her stomach let out a grumble. She rubbed it, wondering if there was a place to eat nearby.

“You can see her now,” the nurse said, waving Milly over.

When they entered the room, it was various shades of white and grey everywhere. The smell was mold and stale which made Milly’s nose wrinkle. Her first thought was to open a window as soon as she could.

The woman she had met the night before was awake on the cotton bed. Milly finally got a good look at her this time. The woman’s hair was a dull black color that contrasted to her pale skin and gaunt cheeks. Her eyes were slanted away from each other, making her face look almost alien. The long neck and thin lips didn’t detract from this thought.

“Hello,” Milly started, shuffling her feet around. The clacking of her heels making her wince.

The woman stayed silent, wrinkling her fingers in the sheet provided.

“I don’t know if you remember, but I’m the woman who brought you here last night,” Milly started and becoming silent when those eyes peered up at her.

“I know,” answered the woman. “Are you going to take my baby?”

“No!” Milly said at once, bringing up a hand to cover her mouth in shock. “Why would you think that?”

“Only reason I could think for someone to help me,” the woman replied, looking down at her hands. She huffed a breath through her nose, shaking her head slightly as though deciding something before glancing back up at Milly. “He’s my baby.”

“Yes, yes he is,” Milly said, wondering if she made a mistake. She was sure Betty and all her friends were going to have a laugh at her. This wasn’t the first time she attached herself to a stranger in need, but it was the first time that stranger seemed upset at her assistance. “Do you want me to send a letter to someone for you? Any family who might want to come see you both?”

The woman became silent again for a few moments.

“No,” she answered quietly. “No family.”

It was now Milly noticed how tired the woman looked. It wasn’t strange for a woman to be tired after battling for her life and giving birth, but Milly had never seen someone look so absolutely defeated before.  The slump of her shoulders and her slight frame that seemed to be wasting away as she lay there. Her ragged clothing was nowhere to be seen and the wisp of fabric given to her by the hospital barely kept her concealed.

Milly’s heart ached in her chest.

“I have a spare room,” Milly said suddenly causing the woman to look up at her. Before she could hear any objections, Milly continued. “You’ll have to work the store of course when you get back on your feet, but it’s the best I can offer.”

“Why?” the woman asked, her fingers now clenching at her sheets and her lip trembling slightly.

“It’s the right thing,” Milly answered, nodding to herself. “Ain’t right for a woman to be on the streets trying to raise a baby.”

The woman peered at Milly for a few moments before a small smile bloomed on her face. Milly felt her lips tug as well.

“Thank you,” said the woman in honesty.

With that settled, Milly sat down in the chair next to the bed and began chatting away at the woman about her place. Milly dominated the conversation but she couldn’t help but feel better about it whenever the woman smiled in return. It was a start to a rocking friendship that lasted many years between the different women.

Five years had passed since Tom was born. The first years of his life were a blur to him as he grew up in a small house with his mother and her boss Miss. Milly Millar. Tom was always told to stay in his and his mother’s room during the day since his mother had to work down at the store below their place. Tom would sometimes sit for hours at the window watching the people go back and forth down the streets. His favorite was the old lady who always had pigeon poo on her and seemed to be followed everywhere she goes by the birds. They would coo by his window sometimes when the lady feed them below.

The smell of bread being made was constantly in the air from the kitchens below. Tom always felt at home when the early morning smoke rose through the chimney and the honey bread was made. It would warm the room during the winters and the rich honey would make his stomach rumble.

The start to this day was very like every day before. Tom’s mom would wake him up for breakfast with toast and jam. This morning was nicer than most since there was a small glass of milk for Tom at the table as well. He savored the glass, only taking some sips to make it last longer.

When it was time for his mother to go to work, she would do the same thing she did every morning. She hugged him tight in her arms and straightened his hair out. She would try to pat down the slight curls that was common in younger children, and say to him, “Behave and stay out of trouble.”

“I will,” he responded, same as ever day. He would watch as his mom left for work with her black hair pulled into a bun on the back of her neck, and an apron tied around her waist.

Once she left, he gathered the worn plates and took them to the kitchen. He was still not tall enough to reach the sink so he would scooch them up onto the counter instead. While there, he would wonder over to the bookshelf that Miss. Millar owned and pick out his books for the day. He already read all the children’s books that were on the shelf so he started picking out one of the others. The ones with a lot of words and no pictures. He wished he was allowed into Miss. Millar’s room to watch shows or listen to the radio, but that was only allowed on the weekends when his mother could watch him.

Even though Miss. Millar seemed to like Tom, she was always nervous about being alone with Tom. Tom had caught his mother yelling at Miss. Millar when they were in a room together without her there. According to Tom’s mom, Miss. Millar wanted him for a son, which Tom thought was silly. He could just be a son to both if they wanted, there wasn’t a reason to fight over it.  But ever since, Miss. Millar would bark at Tom to go back to his mother if he went down by himself.

Tom’s favorite time was dinner on Friday’s. His mother and Miss. Millar would cook together then. They both seemed so happy. Tom could even come help sometimes but he still wasn’t allowed to use the knives to cut anything. They both fussed over him whenever he was injured. Once the meal was complete, they would sit down at the nice table in Miss. Millar’s house and eat.

Those dinners were when Tom could eat until he felt his stomach about to burst. Miss. Millar would also grab one of his cheeks and say how handsome he was. His mother would smile and say how much he looked like his father and how handsome he was going to grow up to be.

It was one of the few times Tom could recall being complimented. It always made him happy.

He gathered his books and crept back to his and his mother’s room. Just like any other day, Tom spent it reading, and looking out the window at all the people that passed. It seemed it was going to be another normal morning, until he heard some shouting from below.

It wasn’t common that anyone yelled in the store. Sometimes, people would get upset and want a refund, per his mother, but they usually left quickly. This time, a few minutes had passed and Tom could still hear the faint yelling of voices drifting up from the stairs.

He closed his book and crept closer to the door and pressed his ear up against it.

From what he could tell, his mother was yelling at someone. There were two other voices that were talking but they weren’t nearly as loud at his mother. Tom knew from experience that his mother could get very loud when she was upset.

“-our place is none of your business! You’re not going up stairs to do anything to my boy!” she screeched, and the sounds of a crash came from below.

Tom pressed further against the door but he couldn’t make out what the other person said. When he heard heavy footsteps going up the stairs he bolted under the bed to hide. His heart started pounding in his chest wondering who was going to do something to him.

The door knob turned and Tom squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear the door creak open and more foot steps into the room. His mom was still shouting up and he could hear a fight breaking out.

“Tom?” a voice called out to him.  It was rough and old sounding. Tom decided right then and there that he didn’t like it. He stayed quiet, hoping in his head that this person would go away.

He heard the footsteps of the person getting closer and closer to his hiding spot. Tom squeezed his eyes shut harder and harder feeling his heart beat louder and louder.

‘Go away, go away, go away, _go away_ ,’ Tom chanted in his head over and over. When he was sure he could hear the person kneeling by the bed, a whoosh of wind came by like someone opened the window when it was storming, and a loud cracking sound was heard.

Tom held still for a full minute waiting to hear anything else. The room had settled back into the same silent state it was before the man came in. He could still hear the distant shouting coming from down stairs but that sounded even further than before. It was almost like someone shoved cotton balls in his ears.

Tom relaxed enough to open an eye to look out. The door to the room was open, but there wasn’t anyone around. He was still under the bed hiding, and turned to look for any signs of feet in the small room. When there wasn’t any, Tom debating on getting up and closing the door so no one else could come in, but felt he was safer staying put.

Suddenly, there was a tapping sound at the window. Tom stayed still not knowing exactly what it was. When no one else came up the stairs and the tapping persisted, Tom finally scooted out from his hiding spot. His first action was shutting the door and popping the lock on it. Once he felt safer, he finally turned to look at the window.

Perched at it was a large bird Tom only saw on occasion. He remembered it was called an Owl. The owl kept tapping at his window, clutching a piece of paper in its break. It seemed to look at Tom as though he were an idiot. Tom puffed out his chest and walked over to the window. Once he slid open the hatch and open it, the owl hopped in landing on the table with Tom’s books. It looked at him and bobbed its head like it wanted Tom to take the paper.

“Is this for me?” Tom asked quietly. The owl merely kept staring at him. Tom reached out a hand and grabbed the paper from its beak. The owl let out a chirp at him before hopping back up on the window and taking off.

Tom had never felt this kind of paper before. It felt textured and strange to his fingers. He turned it over and read:

**Miss. Merope Gaunt-Riddle**

Tom had never seen a letter come for his mother, even by the post. He figured this must be very important if they wanted to hide it from the people who his mother was fighting from. Tom figured they must send owls when it was secret so even the postman wouldn’t know about it.

Tom was so distracted by the letter that he didn’t hear the door being opened until the knob was turning. Tom froze, and with a bang, the door came open.

A man taller than his mother and Miss. Millar stood there looking quite angry. He had scratched across his face that trickled blood onto his suit. His heavy brow was frowned as he looked at Tom.

“Hey there,” the man said with a slight accent Tom couldn’t place. He only ever spoke to a few people in his life. “Where’s the other guy?”

Tom didn’t answer, still stuck in his position by the window. When the man stepped forward, Tom dashed under the bed again. The man rushed forward trying to grab him but Tom was much faster. Tom kicked his feet out at the Man as he tried to grab at him. He landed his foot a couple of times, causing the man to curse at him.

“Hey, I’m tryin’ to help you,” the man said in between his curses as Tom kept kicking him.

“Go away!” Tom yelled, pulling his knee up to his chest before thrusting it down at the grabbing hand. The man swore loudly when it connected, finally sitting back away from the bed and the kicking Tom.

It was at this moment that Tom’s mom got into the room with her hair messed, and her nostrils flared in pure rage. Tom wasn’t sure exactly what occurred but the man was flung against the far wall.

“DON’T YOU EVER TOUCH MY SON!” bellowed his mother, causing Tom’s skin to raise in gooseflesh. He had never heard his mother yell so loudly before.

“Lady-“ started the man but Miss. Millar came into the room with a pan in her hands.

“Get out before this gets any worse for you!” Miss. Millar said, her face was thunderous. “Disturbing my customers, demanding my staff be detained, and harassing my staff’s child! These are grounds for a serious lawsuit!”

“I’m only trying to do my job,” the man said back, holding his hands up. Tom’s mom had come by the bed, putting herself between him and the man.

“And what’s your job? TAKING AWAY CHILDREN FROM THEIR LOVING MOTHERS?” screeched his mom at the man. “My child is perfectly happy and healthy!”

“That’s for my partner to decide,” the man said, realizing again that his partner wasn’t in the room. He looked around and shouted out for his partner. No one answered.

“Seems like your partner isn’t here,” said Miss. Millar in a calm voice. She crossed her arms with her pan still in hand. “You have no business being here. You said it yourself, only your partner can decide, and if he’s not here, then you have no job.”

They continued to argue for a few more moments before the man left in confusion as to where his partner left. Tom’s mom came and gathered Tom up in her arms.  She cried into his hair, rubbing his back at the whole time telling him no one was going to take him away from her.

It wasn’t until dinner that she finally calmed down enough to talk. Miss. Millar tried to comfort them but his mom turned her away. Tom almost forgot about the letter until he saw it peeking out from under the bed where he had dropped it.

“What’s this?” his mom asked, turning it over. She paused at the writing, before opening it up. Her eyes squeezed together, trying to make out the words before she sat down and asked Tom to come over and read it out loud for her.

“Dear Miss. Riddle. We have received intelligence that your son performed a Dis-app-par-rate charm- mom, what’s dis-app-par-rate mean?” Tom asked, looking up at her. She had gone very still and her eyes wide. “Mum?”

“Keep reading,” she whispered.

“At ten minutes past one this afternoon in your Muggle residence- _what’s a muggle_ \- and in the presence of a Muggle. Furthermore, the charm was performed on a Muggle. The severity of this breach of the International Confederation of Wizards’ Statute of Secrecy - _what is that_ \- and has resulted in the need for memory charms to be placed on the Muggle. Please be advised that since this was a breach by your son - _I didn’t do anything_ \- we have taken that into consideration on further review of this incident. We regret to inform you that this is a warning on using magic on or in front of Muggles in the future.”

“Stop,” his mother said, placing her hand on the letter and lowering it. Her eyes watered as she looked at him.

“I didn’t do anything,” Tom said, shaking slightly. “He just _vanished_. I promise, I didn’t even touch him or look at him.”

His mother grabbed him and held him against her again. The letter was crushed between the two of them as she held him past dinner and well into the night.

After that, they moved suddenly. Miss. Millar was upset at them leaving but his mother insisted and in the middle of the night, they left. Tom didn’t even have the mindset to enjoy his first real trip outside of their house as he was upset they were leaving everything. The morning bread smells, his books, Miss. Millar and her kind words. They were all left behind as his mother moved them across the country and into a cottage. He never did see Miss. Millar ever again.

Tom grew up with just his mother now for company. She became worried about him leaving her or someone taking him away from her to the point that Tom often found her crying at night. He tried to comfort her and tell her he wasn’t going anywhere, but she would only cry more. He didn’t find out what that letter had been about, or why she was so sure he was going to leave until the summer after his eleventh birthday.

Through the years Tom learned not to talk about that day when the man disappeared. He was also not allowed to talk about the letter, which Tom’s mom burned the night they left. He wasn’t allowed to ask about Owls, magic, or what a ‘Muggle’ was. He learned to keep anything that was strange to himself, which was hard when he became excited that he could speak to snakes in the garden.

He waited until his weekly trip into the nearby town’s library and read up on as many things as he could. The old Librarian even let Tom take some of the books home if he promised to bring them back. She even let him stay during some of the tutoring sessions for some of the children from the school in town. Tom would find it hard to talk to any of them, and he certainly couldn’t go to their house. The last time he asked to go to someone’s house, he was banned from going into town for two months. He learned not to talk to others so he didn’t have the disappointment of declining their offers of friendship.

Instead, he spent all his time trying to study, and learn about the odd things that happened around him. He once asked the Librarian about it, but she looked at him strange. He stuck to books after that but he never did come across anything that suggested people could disappear or talk to animals like him. He gave up on trying to find out exactly what was so odd about himself.

Tom woke up to another warm day and the sun beating down on him. He normally woke up before his mother most mornings and prepared breakfast. Ever since they moved, she would spend most of her days going on and on about how his father should be here any day. Then she would let him go on his trip to the nearby town to pick up things for himself. That was, unless it was a bad day. Then she would cry and yell saying people were going to take him away from her or sit quiet by the window, ignoring everything around her. Tom learned not to bother her those days.

When he started the fire to cook on the kettle, he heard a tapping. It was a sound he hadn’t heard in a long time. He looked up to see a great horned owl sitting by the window, tapping it. A letter was in its beak.

Making sure his mother was still asleep, he went over to the window and opened it enough to take the letter. The owl nipped at his fingers due to his roughness before taking off. He saw his name, and ripped the envelope open, pulling out the parchment inside:

_Mr. Riddle,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find the enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment._

Tom read over the whole letter a few times. He knew there was something special about him. He was a wizard and he was going to go to school for magic! He was so excited he forgot about his mother, who woke up and saw the letter in his hands.

It was a very bad day.

 

 

       

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, please comment and/or leave kudos. Also, if you haven't already, check out the companion piece 'The Deceptive Waltz'. Thank you!


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